


Life is a circus

by Pennywiser



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Richie DOES do his own writing, The Hammock™, it's never too late for a sexual identity crisis, remembering, set a couple of years before chapter 2, sort of meet-cute i guess?, there's another clown though, they don't remember pennywise because fuck that dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 04:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennywiser/pseuds/Pennywiser
Summary: “Careful, I threw up somewhere around there”, he hears a voice and immediately jumps up again.“Gross”, he screams and frantically looks at the ground, trying to determine if he almost sat down in actual fucking vomit. The suns has gone down and it has become harder to see but Eddie can make out a puddle a few meters to his right. He takes a couple of steps back anyways. Just to be safe.“I fucking hate clowns”, the voice says again.---Myra wants to visit the circus and Eddie has no choice but to go with her. Weirdly, Eddie has completly forgotten that he does not like clowns. He's not alone in that.





	Life is a circus

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote that whole thing in one sitting lol  
Hope you like it!

The circus is in town and Eddie does not want to go. God, he really doesn’t want to. But Myra wants to see it and so Eddie finds himself being dragged along on a rather chilly Saturday evening. They’re wearing jackets even though it’s the middle of August and it should be hot as shit. Fuck climate change, honestly. For the first time Eddie thinks, that it’s good that he is so much slimmer than his wife, smaller as well, so he won’t be forced to play the gentleman and offer Myra his jacket. He’d be freezing without that damn thing._ How endearing_, Eddie thinks, _being happy that your wife is like ten times your size just so you won’t be cold. Isn’t that the life?_  
Eddie loves his wife, he does. He just isn’t sure if he likes her. She’s very…controlling.  
The first time his co-workers had asked him to join them for drinks at that bar just down the street from their office, Eddie had said: “I’d like to, but my wife wants me home by nine.” “The fuck man? What are you? 40? Why does a grown-ass man have a curfew? Are you married to your mom or something?” Eddie had laughed with them, but that remark had been the start of his self-discovery journey. He doesn’t remember his mom much, but he knows that he loved but didn’t like her either. You’re supposed to love your mom.  
You’re supposed to love your wife.  
Eddie is pretty sure that you’re supposed to like them as well.  
Maybe Eddie had married his mom. He doesn’t keep any pictures of her around and his memories of her are all foggy, but he remembers how big she was. How overly protective. How controlling.  
The next time his colleagues had asked him to go for a drink he had made up an excuse. And the time after that and the time after that. Eventually they stopped asking.  
Instead, Eddie goes straight home after work. Myra will have dinner ready (she’s an excellent cook, he’ll give her that) which they will eat in silence. Then they will watch TV. Also, in silence. They’ll go to bed by ten. Eddie will read a few pages until Myra tells him to turn off the light so that she can go to sleep. Eddie’ll turn off the light and lay awake for another hour or so.  
Then the nightmares start.

But they also go to the circus together, apparently. This had been one of the few times Eddie had actually tried to get his way, one of the few times he tried to stand up for himself. Of course, it hadn’t worked. He’s not even sure why he so desperately wants to go home. He doesn’t hate the circus per se. He just has a very bad feeling about it.

A young family stands in line before them. Mother, Father and a tiny little girl. She must be around five. _Five_, Eddie thinks, _that’s the perfect age to go to the circus. Not fucking 37_. The line moves forward and suddenly a clown appears just before Eddie.  
He’s holding balloons and smiles at him with a sickening grin.  
“Jesus Fucking Christ! Motherfucker!”, Eddie yells.  
“Eddie!”, Myra hisses and looks at the family in front of them apologetically. They stare at Eddie. The whole line stares at Eddie.  
“Sorry”, Eddie mumbles. “Sorry”, he says again louder and looks around. A few people shake their heads disapprovingly. There are a lot of kids in line.  
“He just startled me, he like came out of nowhere”, Eddie tries to explain to Myra, but she ignores him. Eddie looks over to the clown who shoots him a look. It looks ridiculous with its overdrawn red lips, fashioned in an eternal smile.  
“Chill out dude”, it says and turns around to hand the little girl a red balloon. Eddie has an overwhelming urge to grab the child and run far, far away from this place and even further away from the clown. Not in a kidnapping way. Eddie has zero interest in kidnapping a little child. He just feels the strong need to protect her form this fucking clown (which she doesn’t seem to mind, by the way. Quite the opposite. She’s delighted by the balloon).  
Luckily Myra grabs him by the arm before he makes even more of an ass of himself by trying to run away with a small child (he undoubtedly wouldn’t get very far and then the police would come and they would put him into jail. And there are a lot of filthy people in jail who spread a lot of germs and Eddie really doesn’t want to think about that right now) and ungently drags him along into the red and yellow circus tent.  
“I do not like clowns”, Eddie mumbles, more to himself than to anybody else.

The show is fine. There are some acrobats flying around in the air and Eddie is anxious that they’ll fall and crash and break any bones. He thinks that he had a broken arm once, but he can’t quite remember. He does remember that something hurt like hell, though. There’s a juggler juggling eight balls at once. _This is nice_, Eddie thinks, _just family friendly juggling. No danger at all. Lovely_. But then the juggler’s assistant brings out some very sharp looking (and big!) knives and along with them comes Eddie’s anxiety. He closes his eyes and listens to the _Oooohs_ and _Aaaaahs_ from the audience, which tell him that the juggler hasn’t accidentally sliced his own or his assistant’s head of yet.  
“This is fun!”, Myra wobbles up and down next to him. She takes up part of his seat as well and Eddie shifts a bit further to the right to avoid touching her. Because of the germs, not because the thought of touching his wife makes him gag. Of course, not that.  
The juggler is done juggling and takes several bows to the applause coming from the audience.

An upbeat circus music starts playing and the curtains open. Out comes the clown from earlier, tripping over his way too big shoes. The kids in the audience laugh. Eddie starts to sweat.  
“Ohhh”, the clown says to the juggler “juggling can’t be that hard, can it? Let me try!”, he grabs some of the balls, throws them into the air and catches – surprise – none of them. The kids go wild. Eddie wipes his forehead.  
“Now I need a brave little volunteer”, the clown says and jumps over the barrier separating the circus ring from the audience. _Please don’t come to our block, please don’t come to our block_, Eddie thinks and luckily the clown strays off into the opposite direction. He picks out a volunteer, a young boy with light brown hair.  
_Georgie_, Eddie immediately thinks. He doesn’t know where it comes from, he doesn’t know anyone named Georgie or George. Maybe he did when he was a child. If he did, he doesn’t remember.  
The clown leads the boy into the centre of the circus ring.  
“What’s your name?”, he asks.  
“Liam”, the boy answers.  
“Liam! Everyone, give it up for Liam!”, the clown says and the audience claps obediently.  
“Would you like a balloon Liam?”, the clown asks and the boy nods furiously.  
“Here you go”, the clown hands him a red balloon, “careful now, don’t let go. They float.”

Eddie jumps up. He feels sick. He genuinely thinks that he’s going to vomit. Sweat pours out of every pore, but he doesn’t have time to think about how disgusting he feels. He pats his pockets for his inhaler and remembers that he doesn’t use one.  
He doesn’t use one anymore. He did as a child. He forgot about that.  
_Air_, Eddie thinks and stumbles outside.

The cool air hits his face and he takes a deep breath. He takes another one, trying to regulate his breathing.  
“Fuck”, he mutters”, and leans against the tent, sliding down.

“Careful, I threw up somewhere around there”, he hears a voice and immediately jumps up again.  
“Gross”, he screams and frantically looks at the ground, trying to determine if he almost sat down in actual fucking vomit. The suns has gone down and it has become harder to see but Eddie can make out a puddle a few meters to his right. He takes a couple of steps back anyways. Just to be safe.  
“I fucking hate clowns”, the voice says again and Eddie looks around to spot from where it’s coming from. A man is sitting in the grass a few feet away from the tent. He has dark hair and a bit of stubble on his face. He’s wearing glasses and the ugliest goddamn Hawaiian shirt Eddie has ever seen.  
“Yeah me too”, Eddie says and walks over to the man. He lets himself fall to the ground next to him.  
“Seriously, all clowns can choke on my fucking dick. Those ugly motherfuckers. Fuck.”  
Eddie nods in agreement.  
“It’s like that dipshit wasn’t even that scary. Or funny. But like, I see a clown and I just throw up, you know? Can’t even go to fucking McDonald’s without having a panic attack.”  
“I hear ya”, Eddie says.  
“So, why’d you come then?”, the man asks, “I mean it’s a circus, checks out that there’s got to be some fucking clowns around.”  
“My wife wanted to go”, Eddie replies.  
“Geez. How old is she? Six? You’re not some fucking pedo are you? I hate peods almost as much as I hate clowns.”  
“Thing is, I didn’t even know that I hated clowns that much”, Eddie ignores the guy, “like I don’t think I’ve ever seen one up close and here I am, almost having an asthma attack because of some dude in makeup and big shoes. Like, what the fuck, man?”  
They sit next to each other in silence for a while. The man starts plucking blades of grass.  
“So why are you here? If you have a known clown-phobia.”  
“Man”, the guy sighs, “I told them. I told the production team that it’s a bad fucking idea. But, hey, why the fuck would anybody wanna listen to me, huh?”  
“What do you mean, production team?”  
“I do comedy”, the man says, “and they want me to shoot this documentary thingy where I talk to different types of comedians and shit. And apparently clowns are comedians now.”  
Eddie looks up and examines the man.  
“Hey”, he realizes, “you’re that Richie Tozier guy, aren’t you? My wife and I saw you on Fallon a few weeks ago. I knew a normal guy wouldn’t run around wearing such an ugly shirt.”  
“Hey thanks, man”, Richie Tozier scoffs and looks up.  
For the first time their eyes meet.  
And Eddie_ knows_.  
He doesn’t know what he knows exactly but somehow it feels like he has known Richie Tozier for his entire life. And he can see in his eyes that Richie feels the same way.  
“Uhm”, he stutters, “I’m-“  
“Eddie”, Richie Tozier finishes for him, “where the hell do I know you from, Eddie?”  
“I don’t know”, Eddie mumbles, “where’d you grow up?”  
“Maine”, he answers.  
“Main’s fucking big, genius. Where about in Maine?”  
“Maine’s not that big”, Richie replies, “Small town. Something with a D. I can’t quite remember. D-Der- Der-something.”  
“Derry”, Eddie says. It’s not a question.  
“Derry”, Richie Tozier says, “Yeah. Fuck, man. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. That’s you isn’t it? You were always wearing those short shorts!”  
“Yeah and you’d never shut the fuck up”, Eddie chuckled, “What’s that thing we used to say?”  
“Beep, beep Richie!”, they both say at the same time.  
“Man, those were the days”, Richie chuckles, “We’d be out every summer. Your mom always threw a fit.”  
“Yeah but she’s dead now”, Eddie shrugs.  
“Aw man”, Richie says, “That sucks.”  
“Oh, no it’s fine. Really.”  
“No, it’s not that. I just wish I could have fucked her one last time.”  
“You know what Tozier? You’re a fucking dickward, is what you are. Fuck you, bro. You haven’t changed a bit!”  
“Wanna go for a drink? Catch up?”, Richie asks. He seems serious all of the sudden.  
“Won’t your production team mind?”  
“They can blow me”, Richie says as he stands up. His bones crack as he stretches his legs and Eddie winces. Richie extends a hand to help him up and Eddie gladly takes it. As their skin touches, Eddie’s mind flashes back to them sitting in a hammock that’s way too small for the both of them. Legs intertwined.  
Eddie is glad for the darkness that doesn’t allow Richie to see him blush.  
“EDDIE!”, a screech rings out and Myra stomps towards them.  
“Aw shit”, Eddie murmurs.  
“Hey man, I thought you said that your mom’s dead”, Richie says as Myra comes to a hold in front of them, fleshy arms put on even fleshier hips.  
“Beep, beep Richie”, Eddie hisses. He marvels for a second at how natural it sounds, how _right_.  
“Eddie, where were you?”, Myra says in a dramatic voice, “I was worried sick! One minute you’re sitting next to me and the next you’re gone! You missed the clown!” Her tone sound accusatory.  
“Sorry, love”, Eddie mumbles, “I wasn’t feeling that well. I’m fine now”, he quickly adds as he sees the worry rise in Myra’s face.  
“You do look very pale”, Myra says and extends a hand to feel his face. Eddie instinctively retreats.  
“I’m fine”, he repeats, “Uhm, this is my friend Richie. From back home. We just met by chance and we’re going to have a drink, catch up, you know? So, don’t wait up for me, I won’t be too long.”  
“What?”, Myra says, no, screeches, “You just told me that you were feeling sick. I’m not going to let you go out when you’re sick!”  
“Well”, Eddie hisses, no idea where his confidence is coming from all of the sudden, “I wasn’t asking for your permission. And I told you I was fine.”  
He grabs Richie’s arm and drags him past Myra.  
“Eddie!”, she yells indignantly but Eddie just keeps on stumping away, dragging Richie with him.  
“It was nice meeting you!”, Richie shouts over his shoulder, then he does a little half jog so he’s in line with Eddie, who is still holding his arm.  
“Dude”, Richie says.  
“Don’t.”  
“Dude!”  
“I said ‘Don’t’!”  
“Dude!”  
“I don’t wanna hear it!”  
“She’s exactly like your mom!”  
“Fuck you, Richie.”  
“Ever heard of Oedipus?”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Shit, she reminds me of your mom so much,_ I_ kind of want to shag her!”  
Eddie hits him.

The bar Richie has led them to is dimly lit and next to empty. Eddie can’t remember the las time he’s set foot in a bar, but he knows that Richie wouldn’t stop teasing him about how helpless he is, so he just orders whatever Richie orders. The unenthusiastic bartender pours up their drinks and they sit down in a corner booth. As they sit down, their legs accidentally brush together and suddenly he’s back in the hammock. _I can see your vagina_ a much younger Richie says and Eddie’s heart fills with endearment.  
He takes a sip and his throat starts to burn as he swallows, throwing him into a coughing fit.  
“Man, that’s pathetic”, Richie says without making any move to help him. He takes a sip without flinching.  
“Didn’t you use to carry around an inhaler? What happened to that?”, he asks once Eddie has calmed down.  
“Ditched that years ago”, Eddie replies, “It was all placebo anyways.”  
“Gazebo”, Richie says.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”  
Eddie takes another, much smaller sip.  
“So”, he says, “Have you stayed in touch with any of the others?” He realizes that he only says the others because he has no idea who_ the others_ are. He knows that there were _others_, who they used to hang out with, but he doesn’t remember much of them.  
Richie shakes his head.  
“No. How ‘bout you?”  
“Me neither”, Eddie replies, “I wonder what they’re up to now.”  
“I wonder what you’re up to know!”  
“Oh”, Eddie says, “I'm a risk analyst”.  
“Fascinating”, Richie deadpans.  
“Well we can’t all have jobs where we’re forced to go see clowns.”  
“And we can’t all have wives who force us to do so.”  
“Leave my wife out of this”, Eddie mumbles into his glass as he takes another (small!) sip, “How about you anyways? Got a wife?”  
“Nah, nothing like that”, now it’s Richie’s turn to awkwardly take a sip.  
“What?”, Eddie pretend-gasps, “_The_ Richie Tozier, Richie-The-Women-Love-Me-Tozier, is still a bachelor?”  
“Well, what can I say, the women do love me”, Richie takes a sip, “Turns out, I just don’t love the women.”  
“What are you saying, Rich?”  
“I’m saying that Henry Bowers was right all along, Eds.”  
“Don’t call me that”, the answer comes instinctively, as if that little exchange of theirs had never been put on hold.  
“So”, Eddie says tentatively, “You’re gay?”  
“Gay as the Fourth Of July.”  
“Wow. Uhm. Thanks for telling me, man.”  
“You could have found out with one Google search. But, like, that explains why I wanted to fuck your mom. Get it, ‘cause she looked like a man? Get it, Eddie?”  
“Yeah I get it. Also, fuck you, you don’t speak ill of the dead.”  
“You might not, but I do.”  
“I would never have guessed, though”, Eddie continues, “That you were gay. I mean you wouldn’t stop going on and on and on about girls!”  
“Yeah but to be fair, you’re also fucking dumb, Eds! Of course,_ you_ wouldn’t get it. I might have been a horny thirteen-year-old, but no one talks about fucking girls that much. Unless of course, they were hiding something.”  
“You didn’t need to hide though, Richie! You know, that it wouldn’t have changed anything.”  
“Yeah, well, try telling that to an anxiety-ridden kid with a constant hard-on for his best friend!”  
“What?”, Eddie asks confused.  
“Oh, nothing. Forget about it.”  
“Richie Tozier, did you have a fucking crush on me?”  
Even though the light in the bar is so bad, Eddie can see Richie blush. It’s kind of sweet.  
“I think so?”, Richie finishes his drink, “I mean to be totally honest I didn’t even remember you until like two hours ago, but yeah. Yeah, no, the more I think about it, I think I totally had a crush on you. Ha, that’s hilarious!”  
“The thought of being in love with me isn’t that funny”, Eddie says slightly offended.  
“Oh no, that’s not what I mean. It’s just, what kind of boy forgets his first unrequited love?”  
“Oh, right. Only a trashmouthed loser would do that.”

They talk some more, they drink some more. Their legs keep brushing against each other beneath the table. Eddie is not sure whether it is an accident or not. His mind keeps flashing back to The Hammock. There’s something dark there too, in his memories, something that he pushes further back. He just wants to remember Richie.

They exchange numbers and Richie insists on calling Eddie a taxi. He’s tipsier than he thought he was. They hug awkwardly as a goodbye.  
“Keep in touch, Eddie-Spaghetti”, Richie says.  
“Don’t call me that”, Eddie replies.

At home, Eddie finds his blanket and his pillow thrown onto the sofa, an unmistakable hint that he is not to come into the bedroom tonight. It’s not the first time this has happened, usually Eddie would feel terrible and beg Myra for forgiveness the next morning. He’d buy her flowers, the occasional necklace. Tonight, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to sleep next to her.  
He gets comfortable on the couch, realizes he’s not tired, gets up again and gets his laptop. He settles back onto the couch and opens Google.  
Richie Tozier he types in and clicks on the first link, which takes him to a Wikipedia article.

_Richard “Richie” Tozier was born on March 7, 1976 in Derry, Maine. He is a stand-up comedian and writer. He is known for his two stand-up specials “Rad-Richie” and “Trashmouth-Tozier” for which he was nominated for the Primetime Emmy Awards for Outstanding Writing for a Variety Special._

Eddie skims the rest of the article until he comes to Personal Life.  
_“You could have found out with one Google Search”,_ Richie’s words echo in his mind.

_Tozier came out to the public as gay during a radio interview in 2012, saying: “Yeah, I’m a fucking homo. What’cha gonna do about it?”_

Eddie almost laughs out loud at that. This is peak Richie. There are no past or current relationships noted and Eddie feels his heart flutter a little. _What the fuck_.  
He grabs his headphones from the armrest and opens YouTube. Once again, he types in _Richie Tozier_.  
He watches bits of interviews, parts of his stand-up routine, some videos that fans have posted from meet and greets – basically anything Richie related he can find. He’s always funny, always charming, always quick on the comeback. And always so goddamn sweet.  
The video that’s currently playing ends and recommended other videos pop up. Eddie scans them for one he hasn’t yet seen. His mouse lingers on one, that looks like it’s from a stand-up routine. Richie can be seen in the thumbnail, wearing another dumb Hawaiian shirt and holding a mic.

_Richie Tozier on Men_ the title reads, and Eddie clicks faster than he can think.  
“_So_”, the Richie in the video says, “_Ever since I’ve come out, the one thing people keep asking me is-_“ Richie puts on a campy voice, “_’So what kind of guys are you into?’_” Some audience members whistle.  
“_And you know_”, Richie continues, “_I always think that this is such a dumb question, because I never know how to answer it. And so, I always just kind of replied with: ‘Y’know, the kind of guys that have a dick’_”, the audience laughs. “_But that was never enough for them, they always wanted to know if I like them big – the guys not the dicks-_”, more laughter, “_If I like them blonde, brunette, all that sort of stuff. And, you know, I had never really thought about that. So, I did some soul-searching and as it turns out, I have a very niche interest, call it a fetish if you want, when it comes to guys. So, here’s the thing: Turns out, I’m really into guys with asthma. I have absolutely no idea where this is coming from, seriously, I think it’s just the way they, like, suck on that inhaler, y’know? Really gets me going. Please don’t kinkshame me!_”

Eddie closes his laptop without bothering to even pause the video.

He tries to go to sleep, he really does. He even tries counting sheep. But Richie fucking Tozier’s face keeps appearing in his mind, whenever he tries to drift off. The feeling of their legs pressed together in the booth at the bar, Richie’s Adam’s apple bobbing, whenever he takes a sip of whiskey, the goddamn hammock. It’s all there, all at once in Eddie’s mind. _I think I totally had a crush on you_. That were his exact words. _The way they suck on that inhaler_. Eddie feels hot all of the sudden, sweaty. He tries to remember the hammock.  
Him trying to kick Richie out, because his time was up, secretly hoping that Richie wouldn’t move, just so he would have an excuse to climb in there with Richie. To feel his skin on his. Sometimes, Richie would take a hold on his ankle, sometimes Eddie would slap Richie’s face with his foot. Desperately trying to touch him in any way possible.  
Them and the others all standing in a circle, holding hands. He doesn’t remember why, but he does remember Richie’s hand in his.

_Motherfucker_, Eddie thinks, _I totally had a fucking crush on Richie. Have._

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to the sight of Myra standing over him, her mouth in a perfectly straight line.  
“Morning”, Eddie grumbles.  
“You owe me an explanation. And an apology.”  
“Is there any coffee?”, Eddie asks, ignoring her.  
“Eddie! I’m talking to you!”, she screeches.  
“When are you not?”, he mumbles.  
“Excuse me? Eddie! What has gotten into you? Since when do you talk to me like that?”  
Eddie doesn’t answer and shuffles to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, Myra right behind him.  
“Where were you last night?”, she crosses her arms in front of her enormous breasts.  
“I told you, I was catching up with Richie.”  
“You know, I thought he looked familiar when I saw him last night, but it only dawned on me when I was already home”, Myra rambles, “Eddie. That was Richie Tozier, that vulgar comic. You don’t know Richie Tozier. What was really going on?”  
“I do know Richie Tozier. We grew up together”, Eddie says.  
“Then why didn’t you say anything, when we saw him on TV that one time, huh? Why didn’t you say ‘Oh look, Myra, that’s Richie Tozier. We grew up together’? Why not, Eddie?”  
“Because”, Eddie sighs, “I didn’t remember then. But I remember now.”  
“You didn’t remember? Eddie, that doesn’t make any sense, how can you forget something like that?”, her voice sounds hysteric now. Eddie hate it when it does that.  
“Look”, he says in a calming voice, “I know that it seems odd. I don’t fully understand it either, but I know that Richie and I were good friends. Okay?”  
“No”, Myra says, “None of that is okay. I don’t like you seeing him, Eddie, he’s a bad influence.”  
“He’s a bad inf- he’s a bad influence?”, Eddie’s voice grows louder, “For Christ Sake, Myra, you’re not my fucking mom. I’m 37, I can choose my own goddamn influences.”  
“Don’t cuss, Eddie!”  
“You’re crazy”, Eddie yells, “I’m crazy! I’m crazy for marrying you. I’m crazy for marrying my fucking mother, Jesus Christ! Fuck. The thing is, Myra, Myra look at me!”  
Myra is crying, tears are streaming down her face. For a brief second Eddie wonders if he’s being too harsh.  
“The thing is Myra, I don’t like you. I can’t fucking stand you. I’m sorry, but it needed to be said.” Eddie downs his coffee, burning his tongue in the process. He storms past the crying Myra into the bedroom and grabs some clothes blindly out of the closet. He quickly changes into them. When he walks downstairs, Myra sits at the kitchen table, still crying. Eddie grabs his keys, wallet and phone and calls out: “I’ll be back tomorrow to collect my stuff.”  
“Fuck you Eddie Kaspbrak”, is the last thing he hears when he closes the door after him. It’s the first time he’s ever heard Myra swear.

“Eddie Spaghetti”, Richie answers the phone.  
“Don’t call me that”, Eddie replies, “Listen, man, this is really out of the blue, but can I crash at yours tonight?”  
“Sure, anytime”, Richie answers, “Why, did your mom finally kick you out of the house?”  
“I left her”, Eddie doesn’t even bother to correct him.  
“Oh shit”, Richie says, “I’ll text you my address.”

Richie lives in one of those expensive New York apartments, the kind that have a uniformed doorman downstairs. He takes the lift to the seventh floor. _That’s a good sign_, Eddie thinks, _Lucky Seven_. He’s not sure what he needs good signs for, but he’ll take what he can get.  
Richie’s apartment is a mess. Eddie almost gags as he walks through the door. There’s half eaten pizza in an open box (not even on a plate, Jesus Fuck), clothes scattered all over the floor and the only piece of fruit Eddie can see is a rotten banana.  
“I thought gay men are supposed to know what hygiene is”, he remarks.  
“Then you’d be the gayest dude alive”, Richie replies.  
“Touché.”  
They look at each other for a while.  
“So”, Richie breaks the silence, “You left your mom?”  
“I swear to God, Rich, someday I will fucking end you.”  
“You want a drink?”  
“I’m not drinking anything out of anything in this junkyard.”  
Richie goes to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of beer. He hands Eddie one.  
“It’s not even ten in the morning”, Eddie takes the bottle.  
“You look like you could use it”, Richie opens his bottle with his teeth. He grabs Eddie’s bottle back out of his hand and does the same with it. He tries to hand it back to Eddie, but he shakes his head vigorously.  
“That’s disgusting”, Eddie says, “I’m not drinking that, it has your germs all over it now. Also, that can’t be good for your teeth.”  
“Suit yourself”, Richie says and sets Eddie’s bottle down on the coffee table and lets himself fall onto the black sofa. He takes a sip out of his own bottle and pats the spot next to him. Eddie reluctantly sits down. They’re really close again, he realizes. If one of them would spread their legs just a little bit wider, they would be touching.  
Richie spreads his legs just a little bit wider.  
Eddie leans forward and grabs his beer.  
“You wanna talk about your wife?”, Richie asks.  
“Fuck no”, Eddie replies.  
They finish their beers in silence, their knees occasionally brushing against each other.  
“Do you want to see the rest of the apartment?”, Richie asks, “It’s really just the bedroom and the bathroom, nothing special, but yeah”, he trails of.  
“Sure”, Eddie says, and they stand up in unison.  
Richie leads him to the bathroom first.  
“It’s filthy”, Eddie says. It is.  
“I have a lady coming every Tuesday to clean and shit.”  
“You should still clean if it looks like that after a few days.”  
Richie shrugs.  
“The bathtub’s nice”, Eddie remarks, and it really is. It’s big.  
“Big enough to fit two”, Richie says proudly.  
“Tried that out?”  
“Once or Twice”, Richie says, and Eddie feels a pang of jealousy._ You’re ridiculous. Ridiculous and stupid_, he thinks.  
“Not recently, though”, Richie adds, “Maybe I’ve become too fat for it. The second person would need to be slimmer. Like you.”  
_What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!_  
“Or like your mom”, Eddie says and Richie grins.  
“There he is”, he says.

“And this”, Richie opens the door to his bedroom, “Is where the magic happens.”  
“Your bed is made!”, Eddie exclaims, “I am honestly impressed. I would have been happy if there were sheets on it, but actually made? You’ve exceeded my expectations!”  
Then his gaze falls to the corner of the room.  
“You have hammock”, he states.  
“Woah, there Captain Obvious”, Richie grins, “You wanna sit in it?”  
Eddie nods. He knows, that he’s way too excited for this.  
The hammock seems stable enough and Eddie carefully climbs into it.  
Richie takes a seat at the edge of his bed, facing Eddie. They look at each other for a moment.  
“Hey, remember when we had this hammock in that thing?”, Richie asks. Eddie perks up.  
“You remember that?”  
“I remember you always being annoying and trying to take my rightful place from me”, Richie says.  
“You were hogging it!”, Eddie sits up so fast, he almost falls out of the hammock. Richie laughs.  
“You reckon, we’d still both fit into that thing?”, Richie asks, smiling deviously.  
“No fucking way don’t even try it!”, Eddie screams. _I hope he tries it_, he thinks,_ I really hope he tries it_. Richie has already stood up and makes his way over to the hammock.  
“Richie, no! We’ll be too heavy, and it’ll rip.”  
“Your mom’s too heavy”, Richie says and climbs in.  
There’s not enough space for both of them. Richie has to put his feet next to Eddie’s head, his legs spread wide.  
“Your socks are dirty, this is so gross”, Eddie complains, but he wouldn’t even think of moving. He’s staying right here, with his feet in Richie’s lap. Almost instinctively, Richie takes a hold of Eddie’s ankles. Cold fingers on hot skin, he begins to draw circles with his thumb.  
“I missed this”, Eddie confesses.  
“That’s gay”, Richie mumbles.  
“It really kind of is”, Eddie says.  
Richie looks up. _He’s got anti-reflective glasses_, Eddie realizes, _His eyes look almost normal-sized_.  
“I’m glad you left your mom – shit- your wife! I really meant to say your wife, I’m sorry.”  
“I’m glad too”, Eddie says.  
They look at each other.  
The hammock swings lightly.  
Richie shifts and takes his feet away from Eddie’s face. He is now sort of kneeling, his legs on either side of Eddie. He’s almost straddling him. He just needs to lean forward to-  
“I’m gonna kiss you now, Eds”, Richie says quietly.  
“Don’t call me that”, Eddie mumbles but he’s already leaning forward.  
Richie leans in and their lips meet. The kiss is tentative at first, slow. Then they start exploring each other’s mouths. Richie grabs Eddie’s hip and he gasps into the other man’s open mouth.  
Richie breaks the kiss after what feels like an eternity. He leans back with a stupid grin on his face and just looks at Eddie. Eddie is sure that he’s wearing that same stupid expression. He’s never felt this happy before.  
“This was nice”, Richie says, still smiling.  
“Different with the stubble”, Eddie says.  
“Oh, I’m sure Myra had some stubble as well, I mean-“  
Eddie tries to kick him, but Richie catches his foot with this right hand.  
“Your socks are dirty too, you hypocrite”, he comments.

“Can I tell you a secret?”, Richie asks after a while of silence.  
“You like it up the ass?”, Eddie grins.  
“No, well yeah, but shut up a minute, will ya? I’m trying to say something heartfelt here, goddamnit! The other day, in the bar, when I said that I wasn’t sure about having a crush on you? Total fucking lie, man. I saw you, and it was like _BAM_, you now? I was like, I have no idea who that man is, but I’m totally in fucking love with him. And I think, I always knew even when I didn’t know, you know? Like I’ve dated some great guys, husband material, honestly, but I always sort of knew, in the back of my head that there was something, or someone, else. And now I know. Shit, was that too cringey? Was that too gay? I’m sorry, Eds, I-“  
“Do you ever shut up?”, Eddie interrupts him.  
“Rarely”, Richie admits, “Maybe you have to just make me shut up?”  
“Dipshit”, Eddie says and leans forward to kiss Richie.  
“Wait”, he pulls back before their mouths meet, “Can I tell you a secret too?”  
“Sure”, Richie smiles.  
“I fucked your mom”, Eddie says and finally leans in for the kiss.


End file.
